Harry Potter is a Dirty Exhibitionist
by eidheann
Summary: The ten times they almost got caught and one time they did. / Written for HD-Remix 2014 on livejournal, remixing Beer Boyfriends & Bedroom Talk by Sophia-Clark (11 parts total)
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Harry Potter is a Dirty Exhibitionist  
**Author:** eidheann (eidheann_writes)  
**Pairings:** Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, mentioned or assumed Theo/Pansy, Neville/Ginny and other assorted canon pairings.  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Content:** Sex (oh god so much sex) in a number of _very_ inappropriate places; or multiple examples of accidental and accidental-I-swear almost-voyeurism, past and present.  
**Summary:** The ten times they almost got caught and one time they did - a remix of Beer, Boyfriends, and Bedroom Talk by sophia_clark.  
**Word Count:** ~13,000 (in 11 parts)  
**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters, locations, Quidditch teams, and furniture, etc. are property of Ms Rowling and publishers. Original concept and some dialogue are property of sophia_clark. All characters engaged in sexual acts are assumed to be above the age of consent in every country I can think of. I'm doing this for fun, not for profit.  
**Author's notes**: This was the starred request, and as soon as I read "sex on top of the china cabinet," I knew this was the fic for me. I hope (hope hope!) you enjoy where I went with this (because it did get away from me a bit), and have as much fun in the reading as I did with the writing this silly thing. Love and thanks as always to capitu for being the best, zeitgeistic for putting up with my flailings, and iwao for whipping this into shape in the kindest, gentlest way possible. I love you all. **also, there is delicious delicious art for chapter 8 of this on AO3, if you follow the link to my livejournal**

1.

Draco wouldn't say that he and Potter were _friends_, but due to the vagaries of Ministry Departmental regulations and employment, the years since the war had seen them frequently thrown into each other's company. Draco worked with Granger (and the sheer number of Weasleys ensured that when the inevitable happened and she married into the Ginger Horde, he would always call her Granger) on Level One, both Undersecretaries to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Pansy worked on Level Two as secretary to Gawaine Robards (and who knew the Weasel was almost as obsessed with the Cannons as she). Both Draco and Potter spent frequent weekends with young Teddy Lupin, spoiling the child in a game of one-upmanship both reminiscent of and gentler than their Hogwarts rivalry.

They weren't friends, but the rough edges of their relationship had smoothed enough to make them comfortable acquaintances. At least that's what Draco argued when he caught himself staring at the biscuit crumbs clinging to Potter's plump lower lip as they sat in the garden of Malfoy Manor at Teddy's sixth birthday party.

Of course it didn't help that Harry bloody Potter seemed to be aware of Draco's little infatuation. At least that's what Draco assumed, based on the absolutely pornographic consumption of cake frosting and the lingering glances Potter had been shooting in his direction across the sea of happily screaming 6-year-olds.

Buggering bastard. Draco rubbed his head, trying to will the nascent headache into submission, and thought longingly of the assortment of firewhisky in the locked cabinet in Lucius's study. It wasn't like Draco would be missed from the party. His father had heard the words "birthday party" and promptly absconded to France. His mother and Aunt Andromeda, along with Potter, Granger, Longbottom, and assorted Gingers were alternately herding and entertaining the little hooligans.

That left Draco free to make his escape. He snuck in the french doors of the study and bee-lined to the large cherry cabinet, opened it with a flick of his wand, and pulled out the nearest decanter with a sigh.

"Got any of that for me?

Potter's familiar baritone was so unexpected, Draco nearly dropped the bottle. "What are you doing in here?"

"Same thing you are. I saw you sneak out and thought you likely had a good idea of it. And now I know so." Potter's gaze meandered down Draco's frame until he nodded to the decanter still in his hand. "So, is some of that for me or am I getting my own?"

Draco knew he looked like an idiot standing there blinking, so he took a breath and attempted to gather his wandering wits. "Of course." He turned back to the cabinet and grabbed two glasses. "Single or double?"

"Whatever you'll give me." And how Potter managed to sneak up behind him to murmur in his ear, Draco would never know. He had a moment to recognize the heat of Potter's body along his back before he felt the first nibble under his ear. "Are you a one-finger? Or a two-finger?"

Draco's answer was a good deal less coherent, as he found himself squeezed snugly between Potter's chest and his father's liquor cabinet. "Mrglpf?" There was a low chuckle, the kind Draco felt down in his bones, and Potter pulled away enough to spin Draco around before pressing him back again, this time with his mouth.

And _oh_ that mouth. Full lips, soft but firm were teasing against his. The fact that this was _Potter_ of all people made little difference, and Draco moaned into the kiss, allowing his tongue to dart across Potter's lips and savoring the faint sugary sweetness of biscuits and birthday cake before delving within. When Potter pulled away again, all swollen-lipped and heavy-eyed and looking thoroughly snogged, Draco made a noise of protest.

"Just need to…" Potter looked around, and his eyes lit upon Lucius' desk. "Ah! Perfect!" He snagged a quick kiss before he manhandled Draco across the room and back onto it.

"I… What… Potter?" Draco's voice ended in a squeak as Potter began tugging at his flies, pulling until he was able to pull Draco's half-hard cock free. Then he dropped to his knees, swallowing it in one go. "Fuck!"

Potter laughed at him, but as his mouth was still full of Draco's cock, he didn't feel the need to complain too much. And when Potter pulled away enough to push Draco back fully onto the desk and slide his trousers down to his knees, he took long enough to suck one of his fingers before dropping back to Draco's cock, finger sliding back and tracing his hole.

Draco kicked his trousers off as best he could, one shoe remaining tangled inside the leg he managed to free completely, leaving the trousers hanging by an ankle. Hooking his free leg over Potter's shoulder, he took a moment to wonder at the situation. Him, sprawled across his father's antique desk, the blotter a ridge of smooth leather against his bare arse, with one foot still covered by a black sock and the other weighed down by his trousers and missing shoe, and the sounds of a dozen laughing and screaming children just outside the doors and sheer curtains.

Well, in for a knut… "Fuck, Potter. Are you going to do something down there or are you just going to tease me?"

At least _that_ part of Potter was still predictable, and he countered Draco's tone by breaching him abruptly with two fingers. Draco gasped at the sudden intrusion. "Two fingers, I thought as much…" The burning stretch distracted Draco from Potter's words and smug tone, and then Potter was back, sucking down his prick and _swallowing_, leaving Draco to bite his fist to keep back the shout when he came down Potter's throat.

Draco focused on his breathing, and _not_ on Potter's smug expression, as he sat up and ran shaky hands over his face. Potter's expression quickly turned to panic as Draco heard the sound of Girl-Weasel's voice, growing louder from beyond the french doors. Ducking quickly off the desk and underneath it, Draco listened to the door give an almost inaudible creak as it opened.

"Oh! Harry, there you are. Andy was asking for you. What are you doing in here?"

The desk creaked over Draco's head as Potter leaned against it. "Just getting a breather. Was just contemplating the liquor cabinet, actually. Want one?"

"No, and you probably shouldn't be stealing Narcissa's firewhisky, either. Come on before Andy comes looking for us." The desk creaked again and Draco listened to Potter's steps crossing the floor. "You okay? Did you twist your ankle playing football with Teddy earlier? You're walking funny."

Draco didn't laugh, but the thought of Potter having to wade through the party and back to his aunt with a hard-on made it a very close thing.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Draco hated the summer. Specifically, he hated those Saturday afternoons in June when the Cannons played and Pansy claimed best friend privileges and dragged him along as company.

"Blag him harder, you arse!" Draco winced as Pansy's screech surprised Lewes into dropping the Quaffle. "Argh! The line-up this year is for shit! Dorkins is a fucking idiot. You hear me Dorkins? Fucking idiot!"

"The whole bloody county hears you, Pans." Draco rubbed his ear, trying to soothe the ringing as Pansy's volume rose again.

"Oi! Weasley! Come up here and get a proper seat! Draco, shove over."

And the other reason Draco hated summer clambered up the stairs to their seats, his hair clashing with both his bright orange Cannons shirt and the red Auror robes over his arm, and settled himself between Draco and Pansy. Pansy had been dragging Draco to these things for years- when she and Theo got married, she _still_ insisted Draco be the one to come with her to provide moral support. Even when she invariably pulled Weasley up to sit with her and trade insults at the Cannons manager, she still made Draco come as well. At least the arrival of Weasley meant he had a chance of slipping out early.

"Cheers, Malfoy." Potter squeezed in on Draco's other side. He sat entirely too close, the bench was made to hold three at the most, leaving Draco to press against Weasley or allow Potter to press against him. The regular addition of Potter to this gathering was relatively new. He'd come to the odd game in the past, but he generally ended up staying below in the cheap seats and let Ron come up to sit with Pansy. However since Teddy's birthday, Draco had been running into Potter in the oddest locations.

"Ooooooh! You idiot!"

Draco winced as Pansy shrieked again, not even glancing at the pitch. "Maybe they'll lose quick this time," he muttered.

Potter's chuckle caught him by surprise, used as he was to Pansy ignoring his complaints. "Ten more minutes and they probably won't notice us leaving."

"True. If they lose before I sneak out, I'll likely be fronting Pansy's consolation merlot tab for the evening."

"She still has you paying for that?"

Draco shrugged. "Theo pays me back… usually. Or if her tab gets too high, I drag her to brunch with our mothers."

Potter laughed, a bright sound Draco couldn't remember ever being directed at _him_ before. "You drag your mother into it? That's harsh!"

Draco grinned back, helpless in the wake of Potter's smile. "With Pansy, one needs all the advantages one can get."

_"No! Fuck you fucking Dorkins!"_

Potter nudged him lightly in the side and leaned in, breath puffing against Draco's neck. "Come on, they won't notice us now."

Sure enough, when Weasley jumped to his feet to continue shouting, he didn't so much as blink when Potter and Draco stood as well and beat a hasty exit to the stairs.

They arrived at the bottom of the stands breathless and laughing from the speed. Draco had a moment to note that Potter's cheeks were flushed and his eyes shining before he was unceremoniously shoved backwards under the stands and into a post. "God, I've been wanting to do this all week…" Then before Draco could ask what the hell he was on about, Potter kissed him.

It wasn't what he expected when Pansy had dragged him out to the game this afternoon. She'd done it any number of times where he didn't end up shoved against a wooden post, splinters catching and pulling his hair, and a hot wet mouth on his, but he thought to himself that this _definitely_ made the afternoon more pleasant. And when Potter's tongue slid into his mouth, familiar for all it was only the second time they'd snogged, he decided that Saturday afternoons weren't bad at all. And when the crowd erupted in shouts once again just as Potter's hand rubbed firmly against his swiftly-hardening prick, he resolved to attend all future Cannons matches.

The sound of his zip effectively derailed his thoughts, and soon Potter's rough hand was squeezing his cock, giving it a couple quick tugs.

"Fuck, not this time." Potter's face was a mask of confusion when Draco pushed him back, but then Draco shoved his own hands into Potter's trousers, fumbling with the button in his haste. "You had all the fun last time. I want to see the goods."

"_I_ had all the fun?" And damn Potter for daring to sound _amused_, as if Draco let just anyone blow him while he sprawled across his father's desk. Just for that, he gave a sharp tug, and felt the button pop and fly off. "Hey!" At least he shut up when Draco finally _finally_ got his hands on Potter's cock.

It wasn't what Draco had been expecting. Potter being _Potter_, Draco had half-expected him to have a heroic-sized cock as well; that or for it to be tiny, to counter all that personality and magic and friendship and do-goodish Gryffindorness he had. Instead it was a cock; lovely and wide, but nothing exceptional. It had soft skin over hardness, was hot and thick and solid in his grasp. He ran his hand over it, letting it skate across his palm, before flicking the head lightly with his thumb.

Potter gasped, and Draco was shoved back against the post once again with a grimace that wasn't entirely for show when his head thumped against the wood. Potter nudged Draco's feet apart, leaning in the open space, and pressed their cocks together. Draco had a moment to watch, to see two hands, two cocks, and the familiar slide of one against the other before Potter pulled his chin up and met him in another rough kiss.

It was embarrassingly quick, which he somewhat associated with Potter after the last time. He was clinging to Potter while both their hands worked frantically, when the unmistakable sounds of the Cannons losing yet again filled the air and the post Draco was leaning against began to vibrate as hundreds of fans began making their way down the stairs.

Draco broke away from the kiss and looked up, so he missed Potter's face when his cock began to pulse, and the first burst of warm wetness hit his hand. The fact that Potter was coming, that _Potter's cock_ was _in his hand_, that _he_ made Potter come was too much, and he was overwhelmed by his own orgasm as Potter's hand tightened around him.

They were hastily fastening their flies, with Potter needing a quick _Reparo_ to his trousers, when the first feet came into view and the crowds began to leave the stands and head to one of the designated Apparition Points. A _Scourgify_ and they blended into the departing fans, until Weasley's familiar voice cut in behind them.

"Can you believe that play Hiddlesworth made? Sitting on his arse all game, flirting at the crowd, only to have the Snitch fly almost right into his hand. Bad luck, that. Cannons can't compete if the Snitch just flies to the other Seeker, can they? They'll win the next one. You'll see."

Pansy's arm wrapped around Draco's, as she made a point to languish dramatically at them all. "I cannot believe I'm agreeing with a _Weasley_." Her wink belied the words, and she straightened. "Come on, Draco. I need to drown my sorrows."

Draco sighed and allowed himself to be dragged off, ignoring the sound of Potter's laughter behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Draco was uncertain whether the massive number of dungbombs set to go off simultaneously all across Level One at eight on a Monday morning was a prank gone awry or an act of domestic terrorism. The fact that the boxes all bore the same garish WWW logo meant that Remaining Twin was likely not responsible (Draco credited him with _some_ subtlety, as well as most of the brains in the family), but that the perpetrator was one of the… entire wizarding population that frequented his shop. While Draco suspected it likely an attempt by someone in his department to get a day off, he thanked Merlin and Professor McGonagall's career counselling that he didn't go the path of Auror and so the question of who was completely not his responsibility.

What _was_ his responsibility was the smell clinging to his skin and clothing, smell designed to not be gotten rid of with a simple _Scourgify_. He could take the Floo home, most of the department had done that within a minute of the bombs going off, but as he'd been the one nearest the door when the Aurors arrived to investigate, he'd been the one responsible for giving the initial statement. Which meant, of course, that it was now 8:15 and the Floobanks would be packed with the morning commuters.

And while being one of the dozen dungbomb-smelling members of Level One all exiting the Ministry together was alright, being the only one in the Atrium was very different. Which was how he found himself ducking out the back stairs to Level Two, trusting that most of the department would be in meetings or training, and not using their showers.

Luckily, it seemed he was right. A minor _Disillusionment_ saw him past the half-dozen trainee Aurors hunched over their desks, surrounded by stacks of parchment and open files. By the time the first one looked up to discover the source of the smell (and really, he despaired for the state of law enforcement at that), he was already passing through the doorway to the training and exercise area and from there to the Auror Showers.

Normally, Draco preferred a bit more luxury with his showers. These were entirely utilitarian; a dozen stalls, six to a side, each with three walls of bright white tile and a white curtain closing the fourth side, granting privacy. But a whiff of the smell still clinging to his clothing convinced him that utilitarian was _good_, and he hurried to one of the furthest back, turning on the taps and standing under the hot spray while still in his robes.

He was liberal with the soap; he could dry his robes with a charm, and he didn't mind wrinkles when he would be going directly home anyway, but only soap would get the smell out. Once he was satisfied the worst of the smell was covered by the aggressively clean scent of the Ministry's soap, he stripped, letting his clothing plop in a wet pile in one corner and turning the soap on his body.

It took three thorough scrubbings before he was satisfied, and his skin was bright pink from the heat and the rough texture of the flannel. He'd just opened the curtain to grab a towel when the door opened, and his attention was caught by the familiar head of messy black hair backing into the room, still talking to someone behind him. His gaze dropped briefly, Potter wasn't wearing his robes and those trousers left very little to the imagination, and when he looked back up, it was in time to see Potter turn and see him.

He paused, and Draco had a moment to feel foolish, standing there dripping wet and clutching the shower curtain, before Potter's surprise was overtaken by something more avid. He positively _prowled_ across the room, gaze sliding slowly down Draco's chest, then lingering on the cock that was starting to fill despite his intentions.

"Meeting someone?"

Draco frowned at the insinuation; it's not like he _wanted_ to be in the Auror showers using substandard Ministry soap. "Dungbombs on Level One."

Potter's face went blank a moment before he grimaced. "Ugh, you were caught in that?"

"And the one stuck giving a statement, yes. I thought that since the Aurors kept me standing around for fifteen minutes, the least the department could do was share their showers."

Potter's eyes travelled southward again, and he smirked. "The least we could do, yes. Anything else to make up for the inconvenience?"

Draco let his own eyes wander, and he answered Potter's smirk with one of his own. "I suppose I could use some assistance with washing my back."

Potter's face took on a falsely serious cast and he nodded. "We at the Auror Department are here to serve." He pulled the shirt over his head, leaving his hair even more mussed before giving Draco a light shove back into the stall and pushing down his trousers and pants, kicking them off as Draco once again turned on the taps.

"God, I want to fuck you..." The water had nothing on the heat of Potter's hands squeezing his arse.

Draco turned to face Potter, smirking as the hands left his arse with obvious reluctance. "I thought you were making up for _my_ inconvenience. Shouldn't I be the one fucking you?"

Potter's expression went thoughtful and he paused a moment before eying Draco with a mixture of hope and avarice. "Blowjob first?" At Draco's quirked eyebrow, he grinned. "Me, you git."

Draco heaved a put-upon sigh and dropped to his knees on the hard tile. "Oh _fine_." It wasn't that he disliked sucking cock—he rather loved it, actually—but there was no way he was going to tell _Potter_ that. He gave another sigh before nuzzling into the join between Potter's hip and leg.

He smelled of sweat and salt- Potter had obviously been coming to the showers after some sort of workout or practice- and under that was the lingering tinge of soap when Draco inhaled deeply. Potter had proven himself fully capable when he'd sucked Draco at Teddy's birthday party, but in this, Draco knew he would defeat Potter once and for all.

When Potter flexed his hips slightly, bumping into Draco's nose, Draco laughed and nipped the soft skin. "Patience, Potter. I'll make it worth your while."

"You say that, but I've yet to see any evidence—" Potter's words cut off by a loud groan when Draco gently nuzzled into his bollocks, mouthing them briefly while running his hands up Potter's thighs.

"Shut up and enjoy it, Potter. I don't do this for just anyone." And with that, he opened his mouth and slid down Potter's cock, letting his teeth barely skim the thick vein pulsing along the underside. Potter's breath hitched and his cock twitched and wasn't that just _interesting_. Apparently the Golden Boy liked a little bit of risk and teeth.

Of course, that would end things too quickly, so Draco changed his approach to gentle suction with lots of tongue. Potter's groan this time sounded halfway to tears, and Draco looked up across the dripping plane of Potter's stomach to smirk while suckling Potter's cockhead.

"You're an arse, Malfoy." Potter's fingers wound into Draco's hair, catching and pulling the wet strands. He gave another gentle buck of his hips, but Draco didn't let him further in. "Fucking tease, might as well just have a wank—"

Potter's words cut off with a hiss when Draco frowned and slid down again, this time with more than just a bit of teeth, and gave his bollocks a sharp tug. He knew he shouldn't let Potter's words get to him, that he was doing exactly as Potter wanted, that he should just stop and _let_ the git wank all on his own, but that would be like letting Potter win.

Which didn't make sense, but felt right; just like the smooth, bitter weight of Potter's cock sliding across his tongue.

Potter didn't seem to mind too much, either. He took advantage of Draco's movement to take up his own rhythm, fingers tightening and loosening in Draco's hair in time with the gentle thrusts of his hips.

Draco loved it. Potter gave a soft grunt with each thrust, almost covered by the hiss of the spray from the shower nozzle. The heat of the water misting the stall gave a hazy feeling of unreality that was offset by the earthy presence of Potter sliding past his lips. Draco closed his eyes, ignoring his own erection and instead concentrating on taking Potter deeper, opening his throat and swallowing around the head of his cock, letting his teeth barely _barely_ scrape the shaft every few thrusts.

He'd just slid a finger around to tease against Potter's crack when he heard a voice from just outside the curtain. "Harry! Stop wanking! Meeting with Kingsley in 5!"

Potter yanked his hair, pulling him off with a: "Shit! Fuck! Coming Ron!" Draco resisted the urge to comment that _no one_ was likely to be coming in the immediate future, but being separated from Weasley by nothing more than a flimsy curtain was still better than not even having that.

He looked up at Potter, who mouthed _'sorry'_ as the sound of Weasley's footfalls preceded the squeak of the door. He noticed both their erections had flagged; and when Potter grabbed his arm and tugged it upward, he followed willingly.

"Sorry." Potter's expression was reminiscent of Hogwarts, specifically when he was trying to explain a missed assignment to McGonagall, and he ran a hand through his wet hair, causing it to spike wildly. "You're fucking brilliant at that."

He straightened and smirked, if anything could save any of this situation, it was a compliment. "I know. You still owe me, Potter."

Potter leaned forward, brushing his lips gently against Draco's. "Tomorrow? My flat?"

"I can't." Draco told himself it was the loss of the shag that made his stomach twist on those words. "Dinner with my parents; they leave for Tuscany on Wednesday."

Potter kissed him again. "Wednesday then? When do they leave?"

"Their Portkey leaves right after lunch."

"Brilliant. I'll be there at seven."

With that, Potter cut the water, and slid the curtain open. He grabbed his wand, waved it in a quick drying spell and pulled his clothes back on. He was out the door before Draco quite realized what had happened.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Draco wasn't certain what he would call this. Well, no, he wasn't so pissed on firewhisky that he couldn't recognize the hot feeling of Harry's cock, tight inside his arse, even if the bright orange Chudley Cannons posters, coverlet, and rug would need to be _Obliviated_ from his memory later. But this _thing_ he had with Harry...

It wasn't what he would call a relationship. Harry had taken to showing up at odd intervals, dragging Draco out to Muggle pubs or to his flat when Weasley would be out. They were never seen together by anyone who actually _mattered_; not even Pansy noticed his irregular night-time disappearances, wrapped up in the news of her incoming sprog as she was.

And _Merlin_ it was a good thing Harry was thrusting him into the door like a _Bombarda_, or the thought of Pansy bringing a little Parkinson-Nott into the world would kill his erection then and there. As it was, he was lucky he'd worked out the angle to brace with one arm that allowed him to wank without being concussed.

"Tell me again why we're in _Weasley's_ room? Jenkins is a little too-interested, if you ask me."

Harry thrust once again, hard, then turned to look over his shoulder in time to see the Beater wink and blow them a kiss. "Ha! Fresh little bugger, isn't he?"

"Of course, he's been stuck watching _Weasley_ wank..." He didn't want to question why he felt a shiver of _something_ when Harry's expression twisted into something matching his own grimace at that.

"Thanks, that's gonna kill the mood."

"Only because you stopped. Less thinking about Weasley, more movement, Potter." He smacked Harry sharply on the flank, and then groaned when he thrust again.

"Didn't kill _your_ erection, not that I've seen anything do that."

"That's because you're always so focused on your own self you never see me come." And he knew he was lying through his teeth, and that Harry knew, and this situation, whatever it is, was becoming strangely comfortable between them.

If only he knew what it was. Harry didn't seem ashamed to be near him. They were in public together quite often, sharing enough friends in common that there was nothing notable about their proximity. He tugged half-heartedly on his cock as he thought.

"Why _are_ we in Weasley's room?"

Potter slowed his thrusts, moving to a deep slide that brushed against Draco's prostate with each stroke. Then he _giggled_. "Revenge."

Draco peered over his shoulder at Harry, allowing the arch of his eyebrow to convey his need for further information. It was an easy enough gesture to maintain, which was good because he was about ten seconds from what promised to be a killer orgasm.

"Ron likes to wank on the couch if he thinks I'm out. He sometimes forgets to close the Floo."

"So fucking me in _here_ after he almost caught us in the toilet at the Leaky is some weird payback, even though he'll never know?"

Potter snickered, picking up the speed of his thrusts. "Yup."

Draco wanted to point out that Harry made absolutely _no sense_, not even drunk-sense, but his fingers and spine had begun to tingle, and before he could draw a full breath, he was painting Weasley's door white.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

He didn't see Harry much over the next several weeks. It wasn't that he was avoiding him, or so he told himself after begging off Friday at the Leaky for the third time in a row, he just needed to think.

Because he _wasn't_ looking for a relationship, especially with a spectacled git. He just didn't want to be a late-night booty-Floo secret bit on the side. He was a _Malfoy_ and Malfoys _had_ secret affairs, they weren't someone else's.

Most of Draco's thinking was done from his favourite comfy blue velvet chaise in his room in the Manor. It also involved copious amounts of chardonnay. And if thoughts of Harry turned to the obvious thoughts of _shagging_ Harry, and from there required a bit of a wank, well... He was a healthy 24-year-old Wizard. He was supposed to spend all his time wanking.

At least that's what he tried to tell himself when he arrived at the Ministry fifteen minutes late and still muzzy-headed from the remains of the morning's hangover. It was his only excuse for not realizing he was in the lift alone with Harry until he heard the jangling bell signalling someone had hit the floor stop.

"You've been avoiding me."

"I have not!" And curse Harry for standing there in his uniform, arms crossed and glaring. The reminder of Harry from Hogwarts always got Draco's blood going, leaving him honestly wondering if he would throw a punch or throw himself down and suck Harry's cock right there.

Harry moved forward, crowding into Draco's space. "You've not gone to the Leaky for weeks, and you haven't been returning my owls!"

"I, er—" Draco glanced around the lift for a distraction, but there was nothing but Harry, standing closer than was necessary. "I've not been avoiding you..." Draco continued weakly. Then, for fear he'd actually end up punching him, which was so _not on_ at work, he attempted his best disarming smile before running a finger across the fine wool of Harry's robe.

He had enough time to congratulate himself on his successful distraction before Harry stepped forward again, this time not stopping until he'd crowded Draco into the back corner of the lift. He spared a moment to blame the lingering remains of the hangover before familiar lips were on his, coaxing them open.

And sod that they were in the Ministry, and that they could be discovered as soon as someone notified the janitorial staff that one of the lifts was frozen. Harry could do amazing things with his mouth and tongue, and the noises he made whenever Draco squeezed his arse were worth the risk.

His mind caught that, something about that risk twisting in his thoughts as something important to remember for later, but Harry shoved his knee forward, his thigh rubbing against Draco's cock and effectively derailing all his thoughts.

They'd gotten themselves into a _very_ pleasant rhythm when the bell jangled again and the lift jerked into motion. Harry jumped back like a scalded kneazle, hastily attempting to right his appearance. When the doors opened on Level Two, he ducked a flock of memos, dodged a secretary behind a pile of folders, and was out the door before Draco could blink.

Once he'd made his way to his desk on Level One, his mind turned to the niggling almost thought from the lift and he came to a decision. Forget not looking for a relationship. If Harry was so against being out in the open, Draco would do something about that. Harry was full of dirty, exhibitionistic tendencies; Draco would just need to make certain they were caught.

He wasn't going to be anyone's dirty secret.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Of course, coming up with the idea of taking advantage of Harry's desire to shag in the most public of places was one thing, actually _accomplishing_ the getting caught bit was much harder.

It wasn't that Harry had suddenly turned prudish, no. He was always willing to get a leg over, regardless of the location; but ever since their interrupted tryst in the lift, he was zealous about use of his invisibility cloak and silencing charms. Which was fine, but after a month was getting a bit tiring.

But Draco knew what to do. That afternoon, Granger took her Weasley to "lunch" (and he didn't want to think about what _they_ would be getting up to in that hour) so Draco grabbed an empty file from his desk, and made his way to Level Two.

He wound his way past the open trainee area to the row of doors along the wall. He stopped at the one with the plaque reading _Potter H, Weasley R _and gave a perfunctory rap before pushing open the door. "Auror Potter, the Senior Undersecretary has a question on this file."

He laughed as soon as the door shut behind him and he could feel the silencing wards engaging. Harry had been leant back in his chair with his feet up on the desk, seemingly half-asleep in the oversized closet he called an office when Draco entered. Of course, the door swinging open had him rocking up in his seat fast enough he nearly fell, but it was the shocked expression on his face that cost Draco his composure.

"Ha ha. Very funny. What does she want?"

Draco grinned, approaching the desk and tossing the empty file down. Harry flipped it open, then glanced up at Draco, a smirk slowly twisting his mouth. "So... does Senior Undersecretary Fairbanks know that you're using Ministry Resources for your own personal reasons?"

Draco grinned and sat on the desk. "I'm just borrowing it for a little lunchtime delivery. It will be back and good as new before she notices."

"And in the meantime?" Harry leaned forward, attempting to catch Draco in a kiss.

Draco pushed Harry lightly, back into his seat. "In the meantime, I happen to know that Granger was planning an _extended_ lunch date so your office is open and available for at least the next hour. And I'm fucking tired of sex under that bloody invisibility cloak." Harry opened his mouth to protest, so Draco continued in a falsetto. _"Oh Draco, fuck me harder... but not too much harder so this bloody cloak doesn't fall off and leave us bare-arsed in the middle of the cafeteria."_

Harry laughed, even as he gave Draco a sharp shove. "The cafeteria was _your_ idea. And I do not sound like that, you wanker. You sound like you're doing a bad Celestina Warbeck impression."

Draco grinned again, sliding off the desk to straddle Harry's lap. "Careful who you call Celestina Warbeck, or I may just _not_ suck your cock right here under your desk."

Harry's breath hitched obviously, and he smirked. "Can't put you off your game with something like that, no."

"No, I thought not." He gave a brief rock of his hips, grinding into Harry's lap and caught his breath as his own cock started to fill. He considered for a moment stripping down and tossing out the blowjob idea in favour of giving Harry a good seeing to, but this plan depended on Weasley or Granger finally catching them. He'd much rather not be caught with his own trousers down, and Harry's desk was sturdy enough should Weasley's temper do the expectedly unexpected.

He just needed to have the right timing.

Luckily, Harry seemed to have taken the promise of Granger's extended lunch to heart, content to snog and rock slowly against Draco. Draco tried not to think about why he was so determined to force Harry's hand, to turn this thing they had into an actual relationship, when two months ago he was happy with the status quo.

It wasn't the sounds Harry made; the soft hums when kissing, or the almost pained whimper whenever he slid deep into Draco's arse. It wasn't the enthusiasm; equally happy grabbing his ankles for Draco as he was pounding Draco's arse into the mattress. It wasn't even that he truly felt Harry was ashamed of him; he was too much a Gryffindor to fuck anyone he disliked. But the only thing that was left was too frightening to contemplate and caused his breath to catch for reasons that had nothing to do with where Harry's hands were wandering.

So Draco did what he did best and focused on the current issue. He slid off Harry's lap and under the desk, giving another smirk before rubbing a hand firmly against Harry's erection. "I'd best do something about this, hadn't I?"

Harry grinned eagerly, sliding forward in his seat and spreading his legs, almost hitting Draco in the chin with his tented trousers. Draco laughed, tugging at the buttons until he was able to free Harry's cock. He gave a brief lick to the head before smirking up at Harry. "Good thing the Ministry gives you and Weasley real desks... I don't think there's room to do this anywhere else but under here."

Harry bucked his lips a bit, shoving his cock against Draco's mouth. "Ron's desk."

Draco traced the thick vein lightly with his thumb before giving a dramatic shudder. "Ugh. I don't want to think about what's under there. Crumbs from Weasley's past meals, and remains from his and Granger's sex life."

Harry grimaced. "Thanks for that. I really needed that mental image of my two best friends."

"And your office! Oh! And your couch as well, if I remember correctly."

"Shut up, you." Harry laughed and twined his fingers into Draco's hair, tugging him back to his cock. Draco suckled on the head, savouring the smoothness of the glans and the salty bitterness already beginning to leak from the slit. The hands in his hair tightened, and Harry gave that whimper that always went straight to Draco's cock. "Fuck you're good at that."

Draco simply hummed in agreement and dropped down, sucking gently in an attempt to keep things slow. Harry's hips flexed slowly in time, and Draco began to enjoy it for what it was; slow and comfortable, and not something they often had the opportunity for.

He made a mental note to do something about that. The thin, substandard carpet in Harry's office meant the floor was hard under his knees, and it was cramped under the desk, but not having to rush was more of a turn-on than he'd realized it could be. Despite the discomfort of the position, having Harry's glorious cock and _time_ since he _wanted_ them to be caught, he was harder than he'd ever been from just having a cock in his mouth.

He slid down again, opening his jaw and squeezing Harry's thighs briefly, knowing Harry would read it as the signal to feel free to start thrusting in earnest. And he did, each stroke slow, but inevitable, just brushing the back of Draco's throat without pushing further. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of the hot weight sliding again and again across his tongue.

Normally, he would be thinking more, when to apply pressure, suction, when to let his teeth just scrape, thinking on how to make things better. He'd be concentrating on his hands, touching Harry. But there with his eyes closed and mouth full, he let Harry have complete control, let Harry tilt his head and direct the pace. He clung to Harry's thigh with one hand, the other long since shoved into his pants, pulling desperately on his own cock.

When Harry's cock pulsed, he was surprised. Usually he was more aware, and he almost choked, pulling back too quickly for Harry to disentangle from his hair. The sharp pain distracted him from the closeness of his own orgasm, and he blinked dazedly as the last burst hit his chin.

"Fuck, Draco." Harry hauled him up from underneath the desk and onto his lap before Draco could blink, snogging him and beginning to tug his cock roughly. He grabbed Harry's shoulders hard enough to make his fingers ache, rocking there on his lap as his orgasm raced through him.

It took longer than he cared to admit to gather his wits and push up from where he'd apparently collapsed against Harry's chest. Meeting Harry's gaze, he gave an approximation of his usual smirk, though he thought it had a bit more in common with Harry's sated smile.

He climbed out of Harry's lap, leaning against the desk, and tucked himself back into his trousers. Harry cast the usual cleaning charms before reaching around Draco to grab the empty file. "You should tell the Undersecretary that I'll be happy to help with any future issues she may have."

Draco gave a smirk, then jumped when the door slammed open behind him. Harry laughed and handed the file to Draco. "Good lunch, Ron?"

Draco turned just in time to see the smug grin on Weasley's face. "Perfect, grabbed a sandwich on the way back up, too."

He cringed, ignoring Harry's continued laughing. "Ugh, Weasley, I don't want to know about yours and Grangers sex life."

"You're just jealous, Ferret. What're you here for, anyway? Hermione was saying something about a spreadsheet she wanted to go over with you this afternoon." Weasley rounded his desk and collapsed in the chair before pulling out a paper-wrapped sandwich and beginning to eat.

"He was stuck playing errand boy for Fairbanks." Harry leaned back in his chair again, all signs off their earlier activities vanished beneath his bland expression.

"Ugh, better you than me." Weasley gave Draco what was obviously intended to be a commiserating look, but the effect was marred when he took a large bite of his sandwich.

"Yes, well..." He glanced around, feeling rather at loose ends with his plan failing and Weasley not even having the decency to stay gone long enough for him to relish the afterglow. "Back to spreadsheets then, I suppose. I'd pass your love on to Granger, but I have the feeling I already know where it's been."

"Ha ha. Git. Don't let the door hit you on your way out!"

Draco flashed two fingers and left the office, letting the door slam behind him. He needed a better plan.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

Diagon Alley in December was as picturesque as could be imagined. Fairy lights glowed in the shop windows, the smell of roasting nuts and cinnamon drifted from most corners, snow dusted roofs, and chimneys puffed clouds of woodsmoke. It would have been completely idyllic were it not for the hordes of people crowding the lanes and alleys, clumsy with their heavy winter cloaks and the icy paths, and bad tempered with the Christmas rush.

Draco waded through, giving the occasional shove here and _Stinging Hex_ there, as frustrated as the rest of them. Pansy was playing the "too pregnant to shop" card, and Flourish & Blotts absolutely refused to sell the newest of the _Wands and Cauldrons_ series by owl order until the initial rush had subsided. And, of course Pansy _just needed_ to know what happened next in the never-ending saga of Bertram and Orabella falling out of their robes and into increasingly unlikely beds.

The bell jangled as he shoved his way past a pair of departing witches laden with books, and he stepped inside the relative peace of the bookshop. The winding bookshelves hid most of the shoppers, giving a deceptive feeling of solitude. Draco took a breath and smoothed his robes, beginning to wander through the shop in search of anything that seemed interesting. _Wands and Cauldrons_ was luridly displayed at the front, but he figured he was due a bit of his own shopping on Pansy's galleon, first.

He had made it to the Numerology section and was frowning at the titles, wondering if his mother would appreciate a copy of _Love by the Numbers: An Illustrated Guide to Getting What You Want from the People Who Love You_, when something bumped into him and he fell hard into the shelf.

"Shite, sorry!" And that voice was one he'd recognize anywhere. He straightened, and sent Harry his best glare. "Oh. Draco. Um. Hi."

"Potter."

Harry grimaced. "Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't see you. I was just looking for books. For Hermione."

"And the shelf was so entrancing, you couldn't look where you were going?"

Harry sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "You're alright? I didn't hit into you too hard?"

At the honest concern in Harry's expression, Draco sighed again, rubbing his chest. "Banged a bit. Shouldn't bruise."

"Here, let me see…" Harry had Draco backed into the shelf before he realized quite what was happening.

When Harry started undoing his buttons, an unmistakable leer on his face, Draco slapped his hands and hissed. "Potter! We're in a bookshop!"

Harry simply grinned. "Why would here be different from the Ministry?"

Draco opened his mouth to retort, because it _was_ different- damnit, he was prepared then- but was quickly snogged into silence. He felt Harry's hands working on his buttons, gentle against the tender skin on his chest, until he was able to start on his belt. Harry pulled away then, just enough to work the buckle and Draco took the opportunity to fumble with the flies of Harry's jeans.

Harry nipped gently at Draco's jaw. "Gonna have to make this quick. Still got shopping to do." With that, he wiggled his hand into Draco's pants and grabbed his prick in a too-tight grip.

And _fuck_ but that felt good. Harry was pulling hard and tight, and it was almost painful. Draco could only hold on for dear life, one hand on Harry's shoulder, one grasping his jeans, all thought of reciprocation flown from his mind.

Harry didn't seem too bothered. He turned until he could grind into Draco's hip, roughly in time with his tugs. Draco felt his back pressing harder into the shelves, heard the sounds of other shoppers somewhere nearby, held his breath to try and stifle the noises he almost made. But his focus, his _attention_, was on his cock and on _Harry_. Harry grinding against his hip. Harry pulling his cock. Harry panting into his neck.

He bit his lip as he felt the orgasm being pulled from him with each tug of Harry's hand. He had a bare moment to catch his breath before he felt the tight press of Harry's teeth against his shoulder, even through his heavy woollen robes, and Harry's thrusts stilled.

Harry pulled away after a moment, smiling at Draco. "Sorry about not watching where I was going. See you at the Leaky later?"

Draco simply nodded, rebuttoning his robes with shaking hands. He felt the tingle of a cleaning spell wash over him before Harry brushed a kiss against his cheek. "Gotta find a book. For Hermione."

Draco nodded again and turned back to the bookshelf. _Love By The Numbers..._ He was fucking in love with Harry Potter.

Buggering fuck.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N - This chapter contains a gorgeous piece of delightfully nsfw art by the lovely iwao. to see it, check my ao3 page, linked from my livejournal (which is itself linked from my profile here on ffnet)

8.

Holidays provided a welcome break, allowing Draco to have his nervous breakdown while too legitimately busy to spend any alone-time with the source. Of course, holidays also meant he had very little time to actually _have_ his nervous breakdown, what with his parents endless round of dinners, charity events, and visits to family on the continent that he was obliged to also go on.

At least Harry didn't corner him in the lifts at work again, and he was _not_ disappointed by that.

Harry seemed busy as well, constantly running here and rushing there. The sheer number of Weasleys meant there was always a chore he needed to do or somewhere he needed to be or something he needed to get for someone. The occasional smile and nod in passing throughout the rush meant that when January arrived with its freezing grey wetness, Draco had moved beyond nervous breakdown and on to randy as fuck.

He finally had a free lunchtime the week after Twelfth Night, when the Ministry was once again at full capacity with the return of the last straggling holiday-makers and the rush of delayed meetings had died down. Draco left his office and started for the lifts, mentally debating between grabbing a sandwich from the cafeteria or grabbing Harry from his office, when he was knocked abruptly into Granger's office and the door slammed closed behind him.

"Invisibility Cloak? Really? You couldn't just knock on my door or take me out to lunch like a normal human being?" Draco crossed to lean against Granger's desk, folding his arms while Harry's head appeared, floating in mid-air.

Harry grinned, letting the cloak fall to the ground. "Where's the fun in that?"

"What_ I _want to know is why you are so obsessed with getting off in your best friends' spaces. A mind healer would have a field day."

Harry crowded Draco back until he was sitting on Hermione's desk, then began working the buttons of his robe. "Let's just say that after living in a tent with them for a year and rooming with Ron after, it's due."

"And they say Gryffindors aren't much for revenge." Draco swatted at Harry's hand. "Do your own, I can at least unbutton without mauling my robes and needing a _Reparo_."

Harry shook his head, tsking quietly. "Picky picky... And anyone who says Gryffindors don't do revenge doesn't know us very well."

Draco paused before sliding his robe off and starting on the buttons of his shirt to eye Harry sceptically. "_Really_. Because with your obsession with spreading your spunk, you seem to be rather the exception to the rule. Much more the react first and plan retaliation never type."

"You can have revenge without planning!"

Draco sighed. "Are you going to take that robe off or am I going to go get a sandwich?" It didn't matter that he had no intention of leaving this room—Harry didn't know that, and it did get him working on his robes. "And revenge without planning isn't _revenge_. It is simply a reaction. Weasley punches you so you punch him back... That's just a fight. But something like _forgetting_ to set a _Silencing Charm_ years after being forced to witness your friends... er, _intimate encounters _is revenge." By this time, Draco was naked and he frowned at the still mostly-clothed Harry. "Why are you so slow today? You're the one who went after me like a bludger to get me in to Granger's office."

Harry shook his head slightly, then smiled and went back to his robe. "I'm thinking about looking for a flat."

"Given what you've said of Weasley's wanking practices, I don't blame you."

Harry laughed, dropping his robe and toeing off his shoes. "Git. But yeah. Was wondering if you wanted- You know how rubbish my taste is."

Draco blinked, eyeing Harry. It seemed a _very_ intimate request, but nothing in Harry's expression betrayed it as being anything more than what it seemed at face value. "And you want the advice of someone who knows not to wear brown trousers with a grey shirt."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, something like that."

He shrugged. "Sounds fine. Now get your fucking trousers off and fuck me."

"Yes, sir." Finally-_finally_- Harry got a move on. He slid both his trousers and pants down in one swoop, leaving them piled around his shoes, and approached Draco, his prick poking out from beneath his shirt.

"Classy..." Draco smirked, and Harry did a little shimmy, causing it to bob. "Oh like _that_ is going to convince me to let you stick that thing anywhere near me, you idiot." But he laughed, more because of the bright grin Harry was wearing than at his cock-antics.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco. "Too late. Already here. Now shut up." And he had to because Harry was snogging him, all hot and wet and messy with tongue, and Draco was reduced to quiet whimpers and moans as Harry began slowly squeezing his arse.

Draco countered by tugging open Harry's shirt, pulling it off his shoulders and tossing it against Granger's door. Free of the cloth, he was finally able to run his hands along the bare skin of Harry's back.

"I'm probably the one who will need a healer." Draco grinned at Harry as he began to tug teasingly on his prick. "What _would_ Granger say if she knew my bare arse was on her precious clean desk?"

Harry grinned at him before dropping to his knees and nuzzling into his bollocks. "Probably give you the horrified look and _Scourgify_ us to death."

He laughed then gasped as Harry opened his mouth, suckling on his cock, and let himself collapse back onto his elbows. "Mmm... You're getting good at that."

Harry pulled back, nipping Draco's thigh. "I'd be offended if I didn't know what an arse you were."

"You like my arse."

"Fuck yes I do." Harry swallowed his cock again, this time most of the way down, hands once again on his arse. He pulled back again, staring at Draco. "It's a good arse. Can't fucking keep away from it."

Draco waved a hand, hoping to convey a _go on then_, which Harry interpreted correctly as he shoved one of Draco's legs back, opening him to Harry's teasing fingers.

His breath left him in a _whoosh_ as a dry finger pressed against him, just breaching, and he collapsed fully against the desk. He could feel Harry's eyes on him, watching as he slid the finger back out before pressing again, harder, deeper. He could feel the blood in his face, knew the blush was staining from his hair to his chest. His scalp prickled with sweat, itching in a way that seemed to heighten the feeling of friction from that one finger.

"Like that, do you?" Harry's voice was a soft rumble, barely audible over the sound of Draco's breathing, of the blood thrumming in his ears. "Some day I'll take you dry. Stretch you for hours. Then just my cock."

Draco whimpered; he was gasping, couldn't get enough air, his entire being focused on Harry's voice, on the finger slowly opening him.

"Fuck..." There was a quiet spell, then wetness. Harry quickly slid two more fingers into him, helped along by the lubrication. "Can't wait, I'm sorry." Then the fingers were gone, and he felt the blunt pressure of Harry's cock pressing firmly into him. The drag was almost as intense as the finger, barely stretched as he was, and he keened softly.

Harry grasped his legs, lifting them, beginning the slow, careful thrusts needed to work himself into Draco's body until he was fully seated, hips pressed firmly against Draco's arse. "Draco... Ready...?"

Draco nodded, already feeling like he was separating from himself. He felt Harry's hand leave his hip, felt it squeeze his own hand briefly and then wrap his fingers around the edge of the desk. "Hold on, can't wait..."

He gave a shaky nod because he still felt as if Harry's cock inside him was stealing his breath, and Harry began to thrust. And _fuck_ but as tight as he was, he could feel every ridge, every vein, sliding in and out of him. Harry felt huge. He knew it was because he was underprepared, but _Merlin_ it felt good.

"Harder..." The words felt lodged in his throat, too breathy to be heard, but Harry was watching him. He nodded, sped up, driving harder, faster, each thrust causing shudders to ripple through his body. He heard the tell-tale slide of Granger's desk against the floor before Harry shoved, sliding Draco further back on the desk and climbing up as well. The change in angle caused stars to explode in his vision. "Oh fuck... Oh fuck... Oh fuck..."

"God. So close. Are you close? Please. Please." Harry's hand closed around his cock, pulling in time with his thrusts. He could only reach for Harry, hands scrambling for purchase against his shoulders, to tug him down with messy kisses, the feeling of his approaching orgasm overwhelming all subtlety.

He felt Harry tense above him, letting out a groan into his mouth, his hand faltering for a moment before he pulled back, stared down at Draco. "Come on." He gave several more tugs, his grip too tight, and Draco came, arching into Harry's hand, every muscle held taut in release.

Harry groaned again, his jaw tense, as he pulled away from Draco. He brushed a soft kiss against Draco's chest, then his hip as he slid back down to the ground. Draco remained where he was, staring at Granger's ceiling and waiting for the trembling in his legs to fade.

After a moment, Harry nudged him with his trousers. "Come on. I'll buy you a sandwich."

Draco laughed, and was dressed before Granger returned to her office. He cursed that he would be alone should she wonder why her desk had moved; his plan had _not_ included being alone to face her wrath.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

Draco had no idea what sort of flats Harry looked at on his own, but after the third wasted trip looking at tiny, cave-like examples of Late Bachelor Disaster Zone, Draco put his foot down and gave Harry the card for Algie MacMillan. MacMillan was a cousin to the Hufflepuff, and had a thriving business as an estate agent who worked in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds.

"What do you _want_, Harry? If it's something just for a year or two, these places are fine. But if you want something you can stay in longer... You're going to want to have company, maybe stay-over guests. You can't Wizard Space yourself a guest room in those tiny Muggle flats, and most of them won't fit more than two to dinner. They're half the size of this flat!"

"I don't want anything too big or fancy..."

"Two or three bedrooms and a dining room is hardly a manor house!" Draco threw his hands up in the air and collapsed in one of Harry's worn chairs. (He'd avoided the sofa ever since Harry told him about Weasley wanking there.) "You can have something that isn't fancy but is still big enough to have room for all your friends without them needing to sit on each other's laps!"

Harry stared at him a moment, all stiff-jawed and stubborn, before his expression collapsed and he started to laugh. "I'm sorry. Just picturing Pansy sitting on Luna's lap."

"Don't give them any ideas. Pansy fancied her back in Hogwarts."

"But... She's married! And..." Harry waved his hand out in front of him, mirroring the shape of Pansy's very-pregnant belly.

"So? It's only an issue if Theo has a problem with it. And he fancied Lovegood as well."

"I... have no idea what to say to that. Other than I'm very disturbed and don't think I'll be able to even _look_ at Luna at the Burrow later."

Draco let the grin fully form. "So, you'll contact MacMillan?"

Harry sighed. "I'll better, or you'll keep filling my head with images of my friends in improbable positions."

"Only you would take a comment about fancying someone years ago and feel the need to imagine it in lurid detail. Besides, you're the one who first mentioned them sitting on each other. Kinky sod."

"Me? You... You are such a git!" Harry laughed, then climbed onto the chair, straddling Draco's lap and rocking his hips. "I'll show you kinky sod, you arse."

"Oh really? This looks rather like _your_ arse." Draco ran a teasing finger along the seam in Harry's trousers.

Harry leered down at him. "Been a while."

"Three weeks! And I didn't hear you complaining about where your prick was going in the interim." Then he bit his lip, knowing the reminder of one of those places would win him the argument.

Sure enough, Harry made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and leaned down, kissing Draco desperately. Draco didn't have time to enjoy his victory, however, as Harry's hands slipped around his head, tracing the back of his neck and he was quickly overcome by the twin feelings of Harry's tongue sliding in his mouth and the weight of him grinding against his cock.

He lost track of time as the snog slowly escalated. He was panting and breathless from kissing before either made a move even to remove their shirts. Then they were both fumbling like firsties; each struggling between pulling on the others' clothes and trying to work free of their own.

Finally, he slapped Harry's hands away, getting his shirt unbuttoned enough to pull it off over his head and toss it over the arm of the chair. Harry tugged his jumper and t-shirt off in a pile, and was immediately kissing Draco again, the scorching feeling of his chest a distracting heat.

"Going to fuck you," Draco gasped between kisses. "Make you ride me right here on your chair."

"Fuck, your mouth." Harry stopped grinding, hands clumsy on Draco's trousers. Draco let him fumble, content to run his hands along the planes of Harry's chest. Finally, Harry slid off the chair, pulling Draco's trousers and pants down and leaving them bunched around his ankles, then sliding out of his own.

Harry climbed back onto Draco's lap, and before he'd even settled, Draco had his hand around Harry's cock, tugging it slowly, watching moisture bead at the tip. "Lube?"

"Fuck." Harry gasped as Draco thumbed the slit, collecting the drop and depositing it on Harry's tongue. "Oh fuck. Fucking bastard. _Accio!_"

And Draco smirked a bit as the slap of glass hit Harry's hand and he quickly upended the vial, dribbling oil over Draco's fingers. The vial then joined the pile of clothing behind the chair, likely dumping its remaining contents over Harry's jumper and staining it irreparably.

Not that Draco cared; his attention was focused on the smooth skin of Harry's arse, the sound of his whimpering breaths as Draco teased the sensitive skin of his crack, the stain of a flush starting at his neck before reaching up around his cheeks and ears and down almost to his nipples. He nuzzled into Harry's neck, nipping just as he finally breached him with the tip of one finger.

"Fuck, you're going to kill me." Harry's laugh sounded pained and he pushed back into Draco's finger. "Give me another, I want you to fuck me, damnit."

Draco nodded, withdrawing enough to carefully add another. He twisted his hand slightly, attempting to loosen the tight ring of Harry's rim when Harry demanded, "Another."

"Just- wait, you're too tight." Draco attempted another twist. "Relax."

Harry exhaled with a huff, but Draco could feel the tension lessening. He withdrew his fingers from the tight heat and wiped the remaining oil onto his painfully-hard cock.

"Alright. Alright." He held Harry's hip in one hand, his grip stronger than he wanted, and lined up against the still-tight hole. Harry immediately pushed back, breaching himself on the head of Draco's cock.

"Fuck, you feel good." Harry's voice was breathless, and his legs quivered as he held himself still. "Why don't we do this more often?"

"You like fucking me too much. Merlin, Harry, move."

Harry slid slowly down Draco's cock, until when he was finally seated, Draco was sweating and quivering just as much as he attempted to remain still. "Okay. Okay. I'm going to-"

The muscles on Harry's thighs bunched as he pushed himself up again, and Draco could only hold on, his fingers leaving white pressure marks against Harry's hips. They really didn't do this often, and it was easy to forget how _tight_ Harry was. Tight and hot and perfect.

Harry had just dropped down again when there was a green flash from the Floo.

"Harry? You there?"

The look of panic on Harry's face would have made Draco laugh had he not been balls-deep in Harry's arse at the time. As it was, he stifled a groan as Harry leapt off the chair with a wince, leaving Draco shivering at the sudden lack of heat. Harry wrapped himself in the quilt laying across the back of the sofa and rushed to the fireplace before Weasley could call a second time.

"Yeah, Ron, sorry."

"You alright, mate? You look a little peaky."

"What was that?" And the loud voice of Mother Weasel came through the fire next and Draco pulled his legs up in the chair, wrapping his arms around his knees as he waited to see if they'd be outed right then and there. "Harry, are you well?"

"I, uh... I wasn't feeling well and had a, uh, a lie-down. I must have fallen asleep."

"You look like you have a fever, Harry dear. You go back to bed, I'll send Ron home after the party with some soup."

"Thanks. I'm sorry, Ron. Happy birthday."

"No worries. I'll see you tonight."

The fire went back to orange as Harry sat on his heels staring into it. Draco cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, we finally found out what could kill my erection."

Harry just laughed.


	10. Chapter 10

10.

"Psst! Draco!"

Draco pried himself up from where he'd collapsed on his chaise after Flooing back to his room. He'd been out celebrating Theo's first evening out since the sprog's arrival and was enjoying the feeling of being completely sloshed. He peered at the fireplace, and Harry's green floating head inside it, grinning like a maniac. "What is it?"

"C'mere." A hand joined the head in his Floo, beckoning him.

Draco heaved a sigh, rolling onto the floor and crawling (crawling—so much easier than walking) to the fireplace, blinking into the flames. "You're drunk."

Harry nodded eagerly. "So're you. Come through, Ron's passed out and I'm _horny_."

"Am not." Draco muttered his protest, even knowing Harry could tell the lie. "Move, lemme through."

It took some flailing before he was able to get a pinch of powder from the bowl, but soon he was tumbling face-first through the Floo and directly into Harry. "Told you to move!"

Harry gave him a sloppy snog, hands already wandering over Draco's arse when a loud noise caused him to shove Harry sharply back. "Weasley's snoring on your couch."

"I know. It's okay, he won't wake up." Harry was nuzzling into his neck now, which was very distracting, but then Weasley let out another horrible noise.

"Are you sure he's not... dying or something?"

"No! He's just drunk! Want you..." Harry ran his teeth along Draco's collarbone and he gasped as the feeling went straight to his cock.

"I don't want to fuck on top of Weasley."

Harry pulled back, eyeing him blearily. "I don't want to fuck on Ron, either."

"Your floor is covered with empty takeaway wrappers."

Harry moaned, burying his head back in Draco's neck. "Prissy git. Fine. We'll go to my room."

There was a spin, and a pop, and his head kept spinning. They were somewhere horizontal, and it didn't _feel_ like a bed, but Harry was on top of him and—oh Merlin what he was doing with his tongue. Draco decided he didn't care _where_ they were, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around Harry and rutting up into him.

He returned Harry's kiss, hands clenching at Harry's back and tugging at his shirt. "Up. Off."

"Yeah." Harry gave another roll of his hips before kissing Draco again.

Draco gave a quick smack to Harry's flank. "Focus! Naked is better."

"Mmm. Yeah." Finally, Harry sat back, pulling his shirt off. His glasses tangled in the neck and went flying when he tossed the shirt over his shoulder. Draco was busy tugging on his buttons, and Harry frowned near-sightedly down at him before reaching out and ripping the shirt open.

"My shirt! You prick!"

Harry leered, dropping down and grinding against him. "My prick." He bent down and nipped at Draco's nipple. "Your arse." Then his tongue was there, soothing the sting. "Just like you like it."

"Fuck..." He grabbed a handful of dark hair and dragged Harry's head back to his, kissing him frantically. Draco hitched his legs around Harry's waist, locking his ankles and grinding their erections together. The moan Harry gave at that tasted sweet, and his hand clenched tighter in his hair.

"Yeah, come on." Harry grabbed one of Draco's legs, tugging himself free of the hold. "Come on, off. Trousers off." Harry's voice was breathless and muffled, trapped by kisses, but Draco finally let him go.

Harry slid his trousers down his thighs while Draco hitched his legs up, working on his flies. "You always have too many buttons." He felt Harry's fingers scrape against his waist, nails catching the sensitive skin there, before they grasped his trousers and tugged with enough force to lift Draco's arse onto Harry's lap.

"Ha! Got 'em!" Draco had enough time to register the sound of his belt buckle and shoes hitting the wall before Harry's hands were back, rubbing and squeezing his arse, fingers inching in to trace his crack. "Gonna fuck you now."

"Fucking tease." He groaned at the feeling of Harry's hands. It was an automatic reaction, now; Harry's fixation ensuring every touch built arousal deep inside him. He'd wondered if Harry's groping would be enough to get him off, not that he intended to mention that.

Harry just grunted as he began tonguing Draco's cock. After a moment of teasing, Draco took a breath. "This isn't fucking me. I thought by now you'd be able to tell the difference."

There was a loud noise, Draco assumed it was Weasley, and then wetness dripping down his arse. He gasped, kicking Harry in the shoulder. "Fuck! Warm your lube!"

Harry laughed as he began to quickly work his fingers in. "I like surprising you."

"Shoving something that icy up my arse isn't what I'd call surprising. More like mood-killing."

Harry giggled, twisting his hand in a way that caused sparks to flash across Draco's vision. "Aww, I thought we only found one mood killer."

"Shut the fuck up and stick your dick in me before I floo back home, you wanker."

There was the emptiness when Harry withdrew his fingers, then the blunt familiar pressure of Harry's cock pressing into him in a single, slow thrust.

"God, your arse." Harry's voice was as breathless as Draco felt. He brushed a lock of hair out of Harry's eyes, noting the pupils were so dilated, the green barely showed. He felt his heart expand and contract in a moment, and barely kept from babbling out his feelings for the git. Instead, he pulled Harry down into another kiss, tilting his hips up and moaning into the kiss as Harry slid the tiniest bit further.

"I was promised a—"

"Don't even start, you wanker." Harry's hand covered his mouth, stifling his words, but his smile was wide and warm and intoxicated. He pulled back, and drove in again, his thrusts slow but relentless. "Gotta keep fucking you... just to shut you up sometimes."

Each thrust drove Draco's shoulders into something hard, but he couldn't be arsed to wonder where they'd ended up. The fullness, the slight burn of each inward thrust, Harry's face: all flushed and focused. He felt suddenly, terrifyingly sober and closed his eyes against the feeling. His barriers were too low, his emotions too close to the surface. He shouldn't have come here so drunk and tired.

"Fuck me so I feel it tomorrow." His voice was hoarse, and seemed unrecognizable to his own ears. But Harry brushed a kiss against his chest, then one against his lips, and began pounding him for all he was worth. He dropped his hand to his cock and began to pull it in time. It seemed no time at all had passed before he was shooting his release between their chests, and Harry tensed above him just a few thrusts later.

Then Harry pulled out, and he could imagine Harry's soppy smile by the shape of his mouth when he kissed Draco's cheek. He held Draco close, flopping down on his shoulder, and Draco was grateful for firewhisky when he heard Harry's quiet snores shortly after. He doubted he'd fall asleep, himself, but the familiar weight on his chest was comforting, and soon he followed Harry to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

11.

He wasn't entirely certain what woke him, or where he was, for that matter. The feeling under his arm and cheek was familiar: smooth skin, warm hard chest, Harry. His hip and shoulder were on something hard, however. He opened his eyes and blinked, wondering why he was staring into the shocked face of Hermione Granger.

"Granger? What are you doing here?" Then he realized he was naked and he looked around quickly. The top of the china cabinet (and how the fuck did they end up there?) didn't provide any cover, so he took a breath and attempted his best glare. "Right, well I think I'll just get us to Harry's room then, shall I? See you Monday, Granger."

He grabbed Harry's arm and _Disapparated_ them both to Harry's bed before Granger could come to herself enough to speak. The dizziness of the _Apparition_ didn't fade, and his breath came in short bursts. For all he'd been planning the getting caught for months, now that it was here he was struck by doubt. What would Granger say? Would she persuade Harry to move on – find someone else? They'd been shagging off and on for over a year now, but Harry had never done anything to move things forward regardless of what Draco tried.

And Draco didn't want to give him up. He loved the stupid git, and the thought of losing him caused his grip to tighten enough to wake Harry up.

"Mmm... morning..." Harry smiled up at him, eyes unfocussed.

Draco was grateful that Harry wasn't wearing his glasses, because he knew his expression was panicked. "Good morning, Harry." He took a breath to attempt to steady his voice, to suppress the tremor that wanted to break free. "Listen, we might have a bit of a problem with Granger. She saw us together just now."

"Hermione saw us? What was she doing in my room?" Harry blinked blearily around, one hand reaching out in the daily wake-up glasses-search.

Draco took an obvious breath, grabbing Harry's hand to stop the infernal patting—he had no idea where the glasses were. "Actually, Harry, we weren't in here. We were in the dining room. On top of the china cabinet." He sighed, rubbing his head to try and calm the pounding. He needed Harry to focus. "Don't ask me how we got up there, I really don't remember much after you Floo'd me last night."

Harry squeezed his hand and huffed briefly as he rolled onto his side, nuzzling into the pillow. "Yeah, I'd say we both were pretty pissed. And I was already on my way there before I even left the pub. All the guys wanted to buy a round. It was even worse than that time we went- wait!" Harry propped himself up on his elbow, grinning at Draco. "Did you just say we were on top of the china cabinet? Shit, well that's a new one!" He laughed and poked Draco in the ribs. Draco swatted half-heartedly at the hands, Harry's laughter beginning to loosen the knot of anxiety in his stomach. "Reminds me of the first time on your dad's desk. He'd hex my bollocks off if he found out about that."

Draco laughed. "Well then I'll be sure never to tell him. I like your bollocks right where they are, thank you." And the mention of bollocks always had a way of catching Harry's attention, and his smile turned darker. He reached up and began to run his fingers along Draco's ear, but Draco pulled his hand down again. "What about Granger?" He hated how uncertain his voice sounded, no matter how he tried to hide it. "What are you going to tell her?"

Harry sighed, pushing himself up until he was sitting beside Draco and wrapped an arm around him. "We'll tell her the truth. That we've been together for a year now, we're looking for a flat together, and there's nothing she or anybody else can do about it. I was going to tell her and Ron soon anyway. I'd have had to when I moved out, at the very least. Sneaking around with you and meeting in secret just turned out to be a lot hotter than I realized it would be. I'm surprised we managed to last as long as we did before being caught."

Draco felt his thoughts stutter to a stop. _'Together for a year'? 'Looking for a flat together'_? Had he completely misjudged Harry's Gryffindorishness? Something about Harry's expression, watching Draco quietly, seemed to imply he had. He plastered on a careless expression to cover it. "Mmmm...our clandestine coupling has been rather hot, it's true. However, I'll be glad when I can hold your hand in public and let your many hoards of admirers know you're off the market." He closed his eyes briefly and breathed. Of _course_ Harry wanted to keep him, who else would be willing to put up with his exhibitionistic tendencies?

Harry snorted a laugh, pulling Draco close and kissing him gently. "Well, now that Hermione knows there's no reason to try and hide it. I'm sure she'll be fine with us eventually, even if it takes her some getting used to. Hell, she can use my moving out as an excuse to finally get a place with Ron. Of course she'll be happy." Harry's expression sobered then. "Ron will most likely be another story. He can be a bit stubborn when he wants to be."

Draco leaned against Harry, nuzzling his shoulder. "Yes well, we Malfoys are persistent, determined and resourceful by nature; I'll win him over with my charm, you'll see. He won't know what hit him."

Harry laughed at that, kissing Draco again. "I'm counting on it. Ron's my best mate, but he'll just have to understand that you're it for me." He wagged a finger at Draco, grinning. "I expect you both to play nice." He climbed across Draco and out of bed before turning and tugging Draco's arm. "Now come on, let's take a_ long, hot_ shower together. I'm stiff all over from sleeping on the damn china cabinet."

Draco allowed Harry to pull him up. He leaned in close, smiling as Harry's breath caught when their cocks brushed together. "I expect I can give you a hand with that. I'll take care of your little, or should I say _quite considerable_, stiffness problem, and then we can get started showing your friends just how spectacular I am."

Harry leered at Draco, pulling him close for a snog before pulling back and giving him a smack on the arse. "Busy day ahead of you, then. Let me wash your back."

And he did.

- end -


End file.
